The Show of Terror of Rocky

Also known as The Rocky Horror Picture Show in English. I caught the second half of it last night. Man, I'd forgotten how weird that movie is! It was on VH1's "Movies That Rock." That it does. I got there just in time for Dr. Scott to arrive and for my favorite part of the movie, when Frank N Furter says he's probably in... the Zen room! And then it cuts to Dr. Scott in this room full of Oriental knitch knatch. It's funny how translation works (or doesn't work) - when Brad (played by Barry Bostwick of course, who you probably remember from Spin City and Weekend at Bernie's 2) gets all irate and says "oh, come on!" it gets translated as "vamos!" or "let's go!" I mean especially in a movie like that, so much is lost in translation... which is why I can't believe that people actually take the Bible to be the literal word of God. Because God spoke in English, right? I don't care how faithfully it was translated over the millenea, but let me tell you, mistakes were made and meanings were lost. Which is why in Leviticus when God gives very specific instructions on how to sacrafice sheep (which way to face, what kind of sheep to use, how deep the water the sheep stands in should be, etc.), I don't pay it much attention. For all I know the original hebrew said Smurf, not Sheep. On the door of my hostel there is a list of regulations, in Spanish and then in English. Number 8, in English, is: "The tourists that travel was of the city, to return then, they can of leave its baggage in the gratuitus deposit of the lodging." Which I read to mean God Hates Fags. I mean I don't think there's any other way to read it, unless you're some sort of Looney Lefty or Activist Judge, which I know none of my readers are.

Blogger is still being uncooperative about getting pictures into old posts, but here's a couple to hold you over: one from Arequipa and one from Colca Canyon (which proves that I'm in Peru and not writing you from my bunker in Idaho. And yes I do have a bunker in Idaho. It's next to Ruby Ridge).

So I was woken up this morning by sounds of shouting; apparently a traveller in my hostel thought that he had agreed to pay 20 soles per night, and the house thought he was paying 25. He had stayed two nights, which means the house was expecting him to pay $3 more than he intended to. It took 45 minutes of yelling to hash it out, but I think he eventually just gave them 40 soles and left. I almost went out there and gave him the $3 just to get him to shut up. Bastard woke me up through my earplugs even. But travellers do get crazy about pinching pennies: the Dutch couple I was with in Colca bought some water at the bus stop, and I asked the woman how much it was and she said it was S/2.5, but she could have gotten them down to S/2, saving her a whopping 15 cents. I mean in the markets people will quote you exhorbitant prices (in Thailand I was quoted $25 for a pair of not-so-quality-looking jeans once, and another time $20 for a bootleg Diesel watch which I bought at another booth for $2), but in shops, if you're not buying a gross or something, just pay the asking price, say thank you, and enjoy your purchase (for me it's usually something sweet). I mean Peruvian per-capita GDP is less than $6,000 a head, and in Bolivia it's less than $3,000 (compared to over $40,000 in the US). Just think of your 15 cents as direct foreign aid or something.

In case anyone was worried, they do have Chinese food here. No Chinese people though. And yes, like Chinese food in the US, Peruvian-style Chinese is greesy and saucey (and I don't mean sexy). But I cut the Peruvians a lot more slack, because, well, I expect them to be as good at cooking Chinese food as I expect myself to be at cooking huy (guinea pig). But people who are actually from China should be ashamed of themselves for bastardizing their food in the name of commercialism. I mean I KNOW good Chinese food exists, I've had it - only in Asia, and it's damn good.

Sundays are strange here; most shops are closed, of course banks are closed, people seem to stay in, and even the cops seem to get the night off. Supposedly you should always take a taxi on Sunday nights, even if you're only going a couple blocks. It's eerie during the day, because everyone takes their signs in, so it's just like blank streets with no people, and you can't tell if you're walking by drug stores or restaurants or auto mechanics or tour operators, or if it's like that movie 28 Days Later and eveyone is a zombie or something.

OK, I was going to post a couple more pictures but Blogger doesn't want to do it anymore. Um, did I mention that I'm going to Cuzco tonight? One other quick thing: pop-up blockers prevent my running spellcheck, and if I temporarily allow popups it has to reload the page, and I'm worried that I'll lose my post. Also, Spanish accents and ennays post all crazy if I have the page set to English, which is why I'm not using them. So I'm not totally ignorant, those of you who are Spanish majors.

Blogger is back.

Hey all. Looks like Blogger is back online. So post away with your comments, becaues I know there's like a million of you out there with something to say about my posts. The PC I'm on isn't reading my photo card though, so I can't post any of my photos, but please do enjoy this photo of England's Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, who once asked an indigenous Australian, "still throwing spears?" and also told a group of British students in China that "if you stay here much longer, you'll be all slitty-eyed."

Blogger is pissing me off

Hi everyone. Blogger is having some serious problems, which means I have two posts saved as drafts that I can't publish and pictures I can't post. However, I did change the comment settings so anyone can comment on my posts (not just Blogger members). Also however though, I need to republish my Blog for the settings to take effect, which I can't do right now because of the aforementioned problems. You can give it a try if you want, but no promises.

Gettin' the Hell out of Dodge

First, more erratica: I'm trying to post pictures, but Blogger isn't doing it right and it's driving me fucking mad. So rather than drive myself to computer rage I'm giving up for now. Also, Blogger is having problems re-posting old posts, so while I've figured out how to switch the page to English and run Spell Check, I have been unable to do so on old posts (I also wanted to add pictures to old posts, but I believe we went over this). Let's see... the Peruvian military has come jogging by the internet cafe twice since I've been in here, a la Full Metal Jacket. I don't know if they were talking about rifles and guns though, 'cause my Spanish sucks. I've decided to head to Cusco tomorrow, where I will hopefully be able to see Maccu Piccu before the rainy season gets started in earnest. Also, I said that the Andean Condors have 16 foot wingspans. The correct number is 12 (or four meters. Hey, Talking Barbie isn't the only one who has a hard time with math). They listen to a lot of 80's music in Arequipa, and mostly good stuff, like Culture Club, INXS, The Cure, Journey, etc. In other words, Arequipans know how to rock. I finally tried some Yuca juice, which is a root vegetable cultivated above 2500 ft. and is supposed to cure everything from impotence to poor social skills (so I guess it's a little like alcohol without the hangover). It tastes kind of sweet, but not as strong as a yam or sweet potato, and is served warm(!). The picture below is from a University art gallery and is called 'I don't want to be a centaur anymore.' I really like it. Also included is a picture that proves I look good in a Panama hat (which I'm posting because I like to look at myself. And I want to use the picture for my profile).

The plot thickens...

I am now asured by a tour operator that I talked to that the reason Arequipa is called "La Ciudad Blanca" is not because of the sillar stone used in its construction. Instead, the reason is racial: during Peru's war for independence, Arequipa was inhabited almost entirely by people of Spanish descent - few natives or mestizos. During the war, the city sided with the Crown, and during Peruvian independence day, Arequipa holds its own celebration that involves raising the Spanish flag in the plaza. According to my informant, if you ask other Peruvians, they will tell you that Arequipans are stuck up. But he insists that he doesn't think that Arequipans are best. He knows they're the best.


So I figured out the spell-check, but then I needed to figure out how to change the language to English, which was tough because all the menus are in Spanish. But I did eventually do it. The only problem now is that apparently the Blogger database is having problems re-publishing entries, which means I cannot go back and add pictures and run spell check on my previous posts, or edit them at all. And believe me, I went through a lot of headache trying before I read the "known issues" section of the help. So I'll post all my pictures here and you can refer to previous posts to see what I'm talking about. I might have gotten a couple images posted in old blogs too if you want to check.


Please enjoy the phollowing photos (p.s. if I had known blogger was going to crap out on me after only three pictures, I would have posted better ones. Sorry):


Awww... a sea lion from Las Islas Ballestas and ornrey pelicans from said islands














The picture below is from a University art gallery in Arequipa. I have a lot more, but they take a long time to post, so this is all you get until I come home (unless you ask real nice and maybe I'll email you more). In case you were wondering, the Catholic Church and America features prominently in the politically-oriented pieces. There's one of a sort of carnival-dressed Uncle Sam (actually think Carnival meets the movie 'Saw') with an ax over a bloody rock title 'They Think it's Only Tomato' and a couple interesting ones with prominant Jewish themes, although I'm hard pressed to say whether they are anti-semetic because I honestly don't understand the symbolism...

VERY IMPORTANT

My sister wants to make sure that everyone knows that she and her husband now belong to the Fairhaven Tennis Club, and that Jason is actually pretty good at tennis. I don't know what they might look like playing tennis, but it might be something like this:

10,000 feet is a lot of canyon

On the taxi ride to the bus station to begin my adventure to Colca canyon, I saw a bus labeled 'Cuatro Ases,' which I quickly translated as 'Four Asses.' This helps me narrow down the list of tour operators not to use.

Colca Canyon is about 10,000 feet deep, twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. After a six hour bus ride along roads that can shake fillings loose (which is pretty much any road in any somewhat remote area anywhere in the developing world, and every road in Cambodia), myself and six others arrived at Cabanaconde, a small town about halfway down the canyon. Have you ever seen cultures put broken glass on the tops of house walls to keep people out? In Colca Canyon the use cacti. Everyone has their own barbwire I guess.



Other than myself there was a Dutch couple, and Irish couple, an English woman, and our guide, Geraldine (I've noticed that women in the developing world tend to take nicknames that are easy for English speakers, and that these nicknames tend to be old-fashioned: Geraldine, Linda, Pam, etc.). As you approach the lip of the canyon, mountains tower 6,000 feet above you and the canyon floor spreads 4,000 feet below you. If you can imagine that, you can imagine Colca Canyon.


We began with a steep, five hour decent. On the way we could see the villages on the other side of the canyon. I didn't know it yet, but in three days my legs would be so sore I could barely walk; I'd be climbing stairs sideways, one leg at a time, as if 80 years old came early. Does the landscape look terraced? That's because the canyon features a terraced irrigation system installed by the Incas sometime in the 15th or 16th century that is still in use today. It's almost rainy season here, but not quite, so the canyon is still rather barren. But there was plenty of magay, a dinosaur-sized plant of the aloe vera family whose fibers are so strong they've been used since Incan times for the construction of rope and bridges.
Along the way we were treated to spectacular views of the entire canyon and its villages, including columnar basalt and sedimentary deposits left over from when the entire canyon was a sea. Sharing the trail with horses and donkeys, we made our way to the village of San Juan de Chuccho. Only 30 families strong, we barely saw any locals as we made our way along the path that doubled as an irrigation canal.


Eventually came to our home for the night, a small row of concrete bungalows. After a simple dinner of rice and veggies and a couple games of Shithead (the ubiquitous travelers card game) we retired for the evening, only to be roused not long after by Sharon, the Irish girl. She had found a scorpion in her bungalow (as did the rest of us later on), and when she asked the woman who was supplying our shelter for the night, the woman simply said 'oh, they're harmless.' Then she plucked the scorpion off the wall and crushed it between her fingertips. Convinced that the scorpions should be more scared of us than we should of them, I slept soundly.


The next day we traversed across the canyon, through the villages of Cosirhua and Malata before we approached Sangalle, or The Oasis. The river near Sangalle collects more water than other areas of the canyon, and the locals temporarily borrow the water to pump into pools for trekkers to swim in and relax around before the wateI is returned to the river. At 77 degrees, the water is perfect for cooling off, and we relaxed around the pools for the rest of the afternoonon (and I even was only slightly burned thanks to SPF 45). After spaghetti dinner by candlelight, we settled into our very basic bamboo bungalows, while I fell asleep to the sound of field mice scurrying around the walls of my hut while I wondered where the predators were.


The next day we awoke at 2am to begin our ascent out of the canyon. If you think that sounds stupid, you should have seen how stupid I thought it was when I had to get up at 2am to hike in the dark. Along the way were women selling various food and coca tea. I don't know how early they had to get up, but the chocolate bar I bought from them was definitelyly one of the best I've ever had. 3 and a half hours later we were having second breakfast back in Cabanaconde. After crowding onto a bus that was holding at least double its design capacity, we set off for mirador del cruise, or the condor lookout.



The Andean condor is a few inches shorter than its California cousin, but has a larger wingspan: up to twelve feet in width, the condors easily ride the thermals rising out of the canyon. We were lucky enough to see three condors in the hour and a half spent at the mirador. The rest of the time we enjoyed the circus, as tourbuses arrived full of amateur photographers and rows of Andean women sold everything from candy, jammy dodgers and coca tea to hats, postcards and condor fingerpuppets.


After the mirador the group left for the hot springs of La Calera, where we spent the afternoon relaxing in the thermal baths, watching Peruvian kids in water wings learn to swim. I like to think that this helped my legs, although you wouldn't know it from the way I was hobbling around that night. I had a terrific time, but I can't even think about going back until I can climb stairs again!

I never knew The Eagles were such an international sensation

OK, so when I was in Thailand, I would go Kareoke with Thai people. It's popular there just like most places in Asia. But all the songs were Thai artists, or the few American artists they had were dubbed in Thai. Except for one. Except for The Eagles 'Hotel California.' So every time it was my turn to sing, I sung Hotel California. It wasn't really much fun, because Thais take kareoke very seriously, which isn't really the point as far as I'm concerned. I mean come on, I can't sing, you can't sing, most of us can't sing. But that's irrelevant. What's relevant is getting wasted and making a spectacle of yourself. But at any rate, 'Hotel California' can be heard all over Thailand. And now I know it can be heard all over Peru, too, at least Arequipa. I've heard 'Hotel California' four times in the past two days, including a cover version done with local Peruvian pan pipes (imagine the Eagles gone new-age). And really I'm with The Dude on this. I hate the fuckin' Eagles. But I don't bring that up, because I don't want to get kicked out of my cab.


So I guess I've never had cable in the States, but it seems like the TV here has a lot more nudity and a lot less killing. Local shows are all about sex, like tela novelas, and there aren't any CSI or Cop Drama shows. Although the program 'Euromaxx' is a lot less sexy than it sounds. It's a news program (so don't let your cable provider talk you into it by telling you you'll get Euromaxx, unless CNN and BBC just really aren't enough).


The Plaza de Armas is one of my favorite spots in the city - nothing beats watching poor little 4 year olds have their parents sprinkle them with bird seed so the pigeons eat off of them while the parents take pictures. And watching 200 pigeons simultaneously take flight is pretty cool too. I usually hear them before I see them, and then they launch into the air, flock together, and come down in a different part of the plaza. Today in the Plaza I was sitting on a bench, watching the action while this Peruvian with a Bible preached to whoever would listen (you couldn't really tell that anyone was listening though). I couldn't catch much of what he was saying, but just like the conservative politician from my last post, I can guess the jist (we're all terrible sinners and will go to hell unless we ask pretty please no, and eat crackers and drink wine. Jesus was into crackers I guess). Anyways, after a few minutes I saw this cop walk over to a gringo couple on the bench next to me, talk to them for a minute, then he walked over to the preacher, and his back was to me, but his arms were folded behind his back in a way that gave the impression that he's the one who tells you how it is. I couldn't hear the cop, but I heard 'Si­. Si. Si­.' from the preacher, and then he left. What the fuck?! So of course I had to ask the couple what the cop said to them, and I guess he said 'hello, how are you? Where are you from?' and then a bunch of Spanish that they didn't understand. But he did point to his ear, so they took it to mean that the preacher was talking about them. Strange. But whatever, I noticed right when I saw him that he had soles on his shoes almost three inches. He had lifts! That's right, I got you pegged buddy. You're not nearly so tall and intimidating as you look. My hotel turned a young couple away because they wanted to stay in the same room, and when I come home late before they open the door they crack it a bit and ask 'solomente?' presumably to make sure I'm not with a girl. I guess Peruvians don't understand why most people travel.


I met this guy from Uruguay who asked what time it was, then he asked if I like Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones, and if I played guitar. Then he said a bunch of stuff in Spanish, and I heard 'no cover' in English, and I was like 'what?' and he said, 'come, I show you.' Then he asked if I smoke cheeba, and said some other stuff, and then showed me a tattoo on his arm and said 'see, I'm a professional, no cop!' and he led me in this big figure-8 from where we started and then we went into this cafe and he wanted to order some cokes, and so I figured out this guy wanted to sell me drugs. So I said I was leaving, I was trying to go to dinner, and he was like 'business, busness' and I walked out and he followed and was like '¿por que? ¿por que?' and I just kept saying 'no quiro, no quiro' (I don't want, I don't want). So the lesson today is if someone asks you if you smoke pot, you say 'no'. I need pot a lot less than I need a Peruvian prison sentence.


So everyone should go to www.democracynow.org and search for the Evo Morales interview from a few months ago. It's really good. He's remarkably humble; when asked if Kissinger should be charged for war crimes for supporting the Pinochet dictatorship, he said that was really up to the United States, and when asked about Chavez's Bush is the Devil remarks, said that he thought heads of state should attack policies, not people, and basically that Chavez acted unprofessionally. At the end he gave thanks to the people of the United States for listening to him. Anyways, it's interesting, check it out. And notice how he talks about his family a lot. Apparently a Latin American thing.


OK, going trekking tomorrow, so I actually won't write for a couple days. Hope I'm not breaking any hearts. Actually, I understand I'm up to four readers now. That's right, just like XM radio, I'm slowly catching on. Except that I'm free, and a lot more fun.

So I forgot that I was going to post this...

...It's a flyer for a political candidate for the provincial government. The man's name is Alfredo Alvarez Diaz, A Firm Hand for Arequipa. On the back it outlines his platform:

Security: 0 tolerance for delinquents, have complete security

Services: Total reduction of all municipal taxes - predial (didn't translate, not in my dictionary), rates and licenses. So that the municipalities serve the town administration.

Administration: Modernization and simplification of all administrative procedures; the technology already exists.

Austerity: reduction of pays, as much for the mayor as the regidores (didn't translate). This will make civil employees serve us, not us serve them.

Us: Respect and implement the director plan, created and approved in 2002


I have a picture of his flyer that I'll post at some point. I plan on getting my pics put on CD when I get back from the canyon. Now we know what a conservative Peruvian politician stumps for. Kind of the same stuff they all stump for.

Why Spanish guys must have the biggest dicks in the world

First, after re-reading this post I need to apologize for it being boorish. But I wrote it so I'll post it.

I've spent time with four different Spanish guys in bars and the one last night was pretty typical: upon introduction (in Spanish) he realized that I wasn't a Spanish speaker, and he asked the Peruvians I was with to confirm it, and then asked me 'if you don't speak Spanish, why are you here?' Well, because the Peruvians I was with invited me I guess. Maybe he meant Peru generally. What a generous spirit! He could be good friends with Pat Buchanan. Whenever I would bring anything up about my own life in the United States, he would always say 'oh, that's normal' or 'that's nothing', always downplaying whatever I had to say and then following it up with something bigger and better. And, since he was copping this attitude because he wanted to take a girl home, I have to conclude that his dick was much bigger than mine. Indeed, bigger than anyone at the bar. Is this some sort of Spanish machismo thing I didn't know about? None of the other guys I've met from Europe (England, Netherlands, Switzerland, Italy, France) act like this. Three of the four Spanish guys were like that, the fourth wanted take me home with his Israeli male friend and Peruvian female friend ('my friends like to sleep with people from all over the world' the Peruvian girl told me. Sold! How could I not want to further a project like that?)
So I'm in an internet cafe in an English school and just spent an hour talking with the teacher, who looked like Jon Lovitz, about Alaska and the United States (which by and whole he approves of as one of the greatest countries on earth, although he couldn't believe that the land of freedom would disallow its citizens travel to Cuba, or that we have poor people), who wants me to come back tomorrow so he could tell me about Jesus Christ. I had more manners than to tell that we actually have that story in the United States, too, and it makes a lot of people do a lot of mean things, like deny people access to emergency contraception (you know I would have a lot more respect for those people if they all had like 10 adopted children). I had a bunch of erratica to talk about but kind of had the wind taken out of me from that long talk, but I'll do my best. Sorry if these entries are getting bland, but I'm going to finalize a trip to Colca canyon tomorrow so I should have more exciting stuff to talk about in a few days. First: I can't believe I didn't mention it earlier, but one of the internet cafes I was in earlier was run by young women and had a very vintage poster of a very young Tom Cruise with no shirt on with a hot-pink background. I couldn't find a copy but this is about how old he was:

There were also various other Latino hunks with no shirts and a few with their pants unzipped. I decided this was an important piece of erratica because it fits with my last post regarding Peruvian sexuality (this balances out the newspapers some I think) and because the Tom Cruise poster made me laugh.

Other strange erratica: a small, independent pizzeria with a vintage-80's Pizza Hut poster inside with 'bring out the good stuff' or something like that on it. The poster itself didn't make me wonder, but the origins of it sure do. I mean did the owner get that thing new, and if so from where? There are no pizza huts in Arequipa... did it somehow bounce around various American continents, in good shape, until it landed here? Which is pretty much what I think every time I go into a bookstore, where they have magazines from as far back as 1981, in good condition and in shrinkwrap. Anyone interested in a 1989 Spanish edition of Men's Health magazine with Arnold Schwartzenegger on the cover? Cause I know where you can get one.

Let's see... suitcase on my arm I talked about in an earlier post... Halloween seems to exist here, because those same little plastic pumpkins we get in the States are for sale in stores here. I can't wait to trick or treat! Maybe I'll be Uncle Sam. I also saw Santa Claus on the street today, amongst moving traffic. About half the cops here are women. Actually I'd put it at 2/5. But that's pretty good I think. I learned last night at the bar that most Peruvians who work in restaurants work on commission only, with no wage. I was a little embarrassed when they asked how much I make in restaurants in the US. In Peru, the people directly elect a president, but they have a unicameral congress which is voted on by proportional representation. This allows a multi-party system and discourages one party from gaining too much control of the congress. Sort of the best of the presidential/parliamentary system I guess. Then again I don't know how much power the president or congress gets, but if it's similar to the US then it means people could vote for one person who they identify strongly with, but also support a broader platform by voting for a party in congress. And I'm way too tired to analyze it more than that. But I will add that when I turn my budget in and 'beer' appears very prominently, that's because I'm out learning about South American culture.

Well that's pretty much it. Mostly I got back on to get the more menacing picture of Benedict on the last post (I was having trouble with it before). You have to admit, Benedict is a much more menacing pope than John Paul, who really had a an awe shucks sort of attitude towards denying women the right to control their pregnancies. Actually John Paul was a pretty good guy, despite his unwillingness to rescind the papal declaration on birth control.

OK, I got off on a total rant on that last post, so I made it separate. This one is actually about Peru. Somewhat.

So I experienced my first power-outage in Peru today, in the early morning. It's actually different, because the power here runs at 220 volts instead of 110 like in the US, which means the amplitude is different too, so the power lines have to be thicker, and the dark, well it's a different kind of dark. I'd say it's about twice as dark when the power goes out here. But the lights are twice as bright.


I also experienced my first case of a Peruvian being outwardly sexual towards me: a guy and two girls were talking, and as I walked by I made out 'bonito' (beautiful, but it's a MASCULINE beautiful, as indicated by it ending in 'o' instead of 'a'. The curves of the letter 'a' clearly indicate femininity). Then as I passed one of the girls whistled at me. It was sweet. But I didn't turn around. Maybe this belonged in the last post. But hey, anyone have interesting sexual mores from other cultures to share? I'd be interested...


I went back to the market today, and once again was fed, fruit this time, and yes I bought some. I tried to stick to stuff I didn't recognize to make it more of an experience. Anyone know what an orange-colored thing with brittle skin and kind of slim-covered greyish seeds on the inside is? Well it's tasty. Some stuff you can get at the market that I forgot to cover: dozens of kinds of guitars (if they're even guitars really, they're stringed at any rate), handmade yogurt, local honey, bread with painted faces on the top (saints?), herbal medicine, flowers, offerings for saints, and aloe vera (important for a guy like me whose ancestors lived in caves under cloudy skies, and in case you're wondering aloe vera en Espanol is 'alo vera'). There's probably more stuff I'm forgetting. I like the market. I bought a hat, but I'm not wearing it now out of respect for Lee, since I didn't have a hat yesterday to take off for him. Oh yeah, it might interest Tim Werwie, or the rest of you maybe, that bootleg CD's can be had for about 50 cents American. As long as I'm giving shoutouts, Chuck Ashbaugh, if you're reading this, I've been eating raw fish and lots of fresh vegetabless, and I'm still the Iron Stomach champ! Hey, if I didn't eat that stuff I wouldn't be eating much, except fried chicken and pizza I guess. Which of course is why we travel, so we can see what pizza and getting drunk is like really far from home.


I'm really wanting to explore the canyons around Arequipa, two that are deeper than the Grand Canyon, but I want to do it on my own (actually with other people, just not as a guided tour). Not only can I travel at my own pace, but it's a lot more of an Adventure that way. But I don't want to do it alone, and most people don't want to spend 7 or 10 days on one canyon (haven't found anyone yet at least), so I think what I might want to do is take the three-day tour, maybe meet some people, see how the buses work (most of the guided tours use public transit), and then go back, solomente if necessito. But I like Arequipa a lot, so I don't mind hanging out here while I make up my mind on that. I might also try and take Spanish lessons here. I haven't seen anything obvious to that end yet, but then I haven't looked very hard either.

God Damn them, the Catholics here have gone soft

Let me tell you a little something about Peruvian media... on the back page of every major newspaper (or at least the tabloidy ones I see at news stands) you will find a full-page picture of a topless woman. Are you reading me?!?! A picture of a naked woman, with her... well you know... OK I'll say it, her breasts! Dirty, filthy, nasty breasts! You women should be ashamed of yourself! Clothe those things! Put cloth on them! What's more, prophylactics are readily available at any corner drug store, and as a test I bought some, and they DID NOT check my ID, which leads me to conclude that they would be available to anyone! Which, of course, is why Peru has a problem with teen pregnancies and AIDS. Because we encourage sex by making condoms available. I mean, condoms? They're friggin weird! Have we forgotten what the Pope said? Yeah? The Word of God? The guy in the hat? We don't listen to him anymore? Is that it? Disgraceful... OK, so the feminist in me cries foul at the images of naked women in newspapers, but at least Peruvians are ready to admit that sex exists, unlike in the US where we have Abercrombie ads with super-sexy 16 years olds, and Maxim and FHM (we buy it for the articles, right?). We fetishize youth and sex, but so much of sex IS a fetish, and not just a healthy part of daily lives. Yes it's one sided (although I think that the reason for that is that publishers don't think that half-naked Latino men would sell more papers), but at least Peruvian men don't have to pretend like they don't like seeing women naked. In America we tend to keep those kinds of things in special stores with boarded-up windows, stores that have their own special stigma attached to them. Either that or we publicize it in the most crass of ways. I guess it seems like identical images are publicly acceptable in a lot of places but deviant in the US, eg a topless woman on the street where a child might see it! And find out that women have breasts! Help me out here, because I'm not able to put it into words the way I want to, but it definitely seems like a lot of other cultures, in one way or another, make sex much more public than we do in America, and in a more authentic way. Thailand has prostitutes (and it's socially acceptable for Thai men to visit, and Thai women to be prostitutes - except in the North-East), England has the same kind of strategy as Peru putting topless girls in newspapers, also in Peru public displays of affection seem to be the norm... the only country I've been to where sexuality is more repressed than the US is India, and if I had to pick two words to describe my impression of Indian sexuality, keeping in mind that all of language is only an attempt to relay our thoughts and feelings in a way that is intrinsically inaccurate, those two words would be: fucked up. I mean a country where it's so important to have a boy that girls are aborted, where some states have more men than women, so they buy 'wives' from states with 'extra' women (did I say women? Let's call a spade a spade and say girls. And let's also say sex slaves). I know it's not India (but it used to be), but there's a reason that Grameen bank, founder of the micro-credit movement, originated in a culture like that. Grameen lends almost exclusively to women, a segment of the population who are traditionally denied access to credit or treated as if they can't handle scary business decisions. You know, ones that involve counting and ideas and stuff. Like the talking Barbie said, 'Math is hard!' See how much the US and India have in common? It's so much more than our love of nukes!

Is this really the guy that you want to let make decisions about your body? Sorry Catholics, I have respect for dedicating your life to fighting malnutrition in urban slums, but not ruling your own multi-billion dollar city-state dictatorship telling people 'God doesn't like condoms, and he loves you but won't hesitate to send you to an eternity of torture for wearing one' while Kenya alone has 3 million AIDS orphans. In my opinion, not supporting access to and education about birth control and safer sex is not only anti-sex, it's anti-woman and anti-life too.

This is the second time I wrote this damn thing... when will I learn my lesson about Internt Explorer?

The Man himself
I start my post today with a picture of Lee ‘Mr. America’ Iacocca. I noticed a distressing lack of pictures of Lee in American media prior to my departure, and I am attempting to correct that. Not just another corporate suck, Iacocca was an Italian-Catholic in a world dominated by WASPs, and by becoming a corporate powerhouse he helped turn asshole white protestant businessmen into asshole white businessmen more generally. Hats of to you, Pioneer Lee (I actually don’t ordinarily wear hats, but I’ve been meaning to get one so I could take it off out of respect). And for my readers who think this Iacocca thing is weird or unfunny, as far as I know I only have two readers, and I’m convinced that Heather will find this funny, and that my Dad will love me no matter what. Maybe once I get a cord to do it I’ll start posting pictures I’ve been taking.
I’m in Arequipa, but first let me say that the boys who run the internet cafes in Peru seem to think they can play loud, annoying, 8-bit ringtone music in their cafes to the annoyance of their customers. Which, I guess as long as they all do it, they can, cause where else can I go? Plus, given the lack of annoyance over the Miami Vice fiasco, as far as I know I’m the only one who’s bothered. Anyways: Arequipa. It’s a beautiful city. The old center is built almost entirely of sillar, a white stone quarried from a volcano (El Misti) nearby and used exclusively for Arequipan architecture. The plaza de armas is even nicer than the one in Pisco (no surprise, since Arequipa is 10 times bigger), and is full of pigeons so tame that if you sit down they’ll sit down next to you (and they’re fun to run through, they all fly up together in a mass flock, thousands of them, it’s really cool. You know for years biologists were puzzled as to how large flocks of birds stayed in formation, how the one in the back knew what the one in the front was doing, since they would move together almost instantaneously, even in flocks of hundreds or thousands of birds. Some scientists even postulated super-luminal, faster-than-light communication. Then a chaos mathematician had the idea that that wasn’t necessary: if the two birds behind the lead bird follow it’s movements, and the birds behind those birds follow those movements, then that pattern could continue all the way to the back, giving the illusion of instantaneous communication without any fancy methodology. Low and behold, biologists now think that is indeed how large flocks move together; each bird pays extremely close attention to just the birds in from of it to stay in formation); at night there is music and acro-balancers and ice cream vendors and old men (more old men); the plaza is surrounded by old cobblestone streets, which are surrounded by sillar arcades (I love that I can use architectural terms in context here. Until I was 16 I thought arcades were where video games were, and until now I never actually saw one). The surrounding area is comprised of low-rises, also mostly sillar, many with interior courtyards that empty into shops or houses. The city is like a treasure hunt: at night the shops close their doors and bring in their signs, so houses are indistinguishable from shops. It gives it a bit of an eerie feeling actually, like a big long hallway of locked doors. And some stuff is only open at certain times of day, so the internet cafes I’m sure I saw that afternoon are gone that evening and I’m wondering if I’m lost again. And like I said, the interior courtyards are full of other shops, and thanks to a lack of signage there is no end to stuff to dig out (which seems like it would be annoying for people who aren’t like me that have lots of time to spare. Maybe there’s a lot of word of mouth? The shops are a lot like in other poor countries, maybe 15 square feet selling one thing: this is a newsstand, this store sells snacks, this store sells weights for scales, etc.) There are a ton of taxis here. Sitting at a corner restaurant I counted the cars going by, and I figure 2/3 to ¾ of the cars are taxis. And of the ones that aren’t, you have to discount the buses and tourist vans before you can figure the number of private cars.
I went to my first South American market here yesterday, it was so much fun I had this big dopey grin on my face the whole time. I was the only gringo in there, and I went in to shop for a hat (to take off out of respect for Mr. Iacocca), but ended up wandering the stalls for an hour, looking at cheeses, pigs feet, fruit stacked 15 feet high, most which I didn’t recognize and some of which I only saw at certain times of the year, like starfruit, and potato vendors with two dozen kinds of potatos, and then this old lady started feeding me olives, and she had like 15 kinds of olives, and I didn’t know what I would do with a bag of olives but I bought some anyways. And wool and watches and stereos and shoes, and fortunately for me I know how to ask where the shoe store is thanks to Quintin Tarentino, and the hat store is basically the same thing, just take the noun and add ‘ria’ to it and you have the store, so hat is ‘sombrero’ and hat store is ‘sombreria.’ Oh, I guess you drop the last noun. What am I, a Spanish teacher? Anyways, Donde es el sombreria? (I can’t find the upsidedown question-mark right now) I didn’t buy a hat (they were a bit pricier than I had thought and I didn’t have much money on me), but the ladies got a laugh at my expense listening to my Spanish and had fun making me try hats on anyways.
I went to a park today that had a bunch of animals caged inside, like monkeys, hawks, parrots, and some long-nosed mammally looking things with ringed tails I didn’t recognize. They all looked pretty stressed out, pacing their cage, or in the case of the hawk flying the 1 ½ feet from its one branch to its other branch. At first I though it was sad, but then I remembered that the Seattle zoo was even worse 25 years ago when all the animals lived in indoor concrete boxes with no windows. At least these guys got to be outside. Which probably means that in another 25 years the Peruvians will be way ahead of us in zoo technology. We’d better get congress on this. Call Ted Stevens. He’d be on board. After all, a zoo is not just a big truck that you put something on (if you haven’t seen Stevens talking about the internets and net-neutrality, you should. It’s on you-tube on a daily show. Just search ‘daily show Ted Stevens’ I bet that would work. It’s worth it).
Actually speaking of innovations, the Peruvians are way ahead of us in the world of pastries. Do you like jelly donuts? I do (I’m particularly fond of white butter-cream filled with chocolate icing. I know, it’s deep-fried sugar filled sugar, but if you’re ever buying donuts and wonder what one I would want, now you know). But have you ever eaten a jelly donut where it’s all plain donut, and then one big bite of filling? Or where the filling gushes out the side and your hands get all sticky and oogy? I hate that. But let me tell you, I was eating a little cornucopia shaped philo-dough pastry filled with this caramel stuff the other day, and I ate the first one from the back, to prevent spillage, only to notice that the back was hollow – and empty. Then I realized that since it was funnel-shaped, as you ate from the front the filling would fill the hollow area in the back, ensuring even filling distribution without getting your hands sticky. Brilliant! Sure enough that was the case as I enjoyed my second pastry. I’m telling you, the Peruvians have got us licked in pastry technology. Better call Lee Iacocca. It sounds like the US pastry industry might need a bailout soon.


The Ford Pinto: Envisioned by Lee, made possible by Congressional loan guarantees, and powered by an explosive design!

A special posting for why I like Peruvian food

OK, we're going to break this down by meal.
Breakfast: quick and to the point, a traditional breakfast in Peru is coffee, juice, and some sort of pastry or scone. Let me be clear: I was born in a country where going out for breakfast means 4000 calories of syrup, syrup canned fruit, eggs, toast, pancakes, waffles, and whipped cream to start. I was born in the wrong country. Breakfast to me is waiting an hour or two after I get up for 12pm to roll around so I can have lunch. I never was a half-a-grapfruit, cup-of-coffee kind of guy cause I don't like grapefruit. Or coffee really either. This being the case, Peru is my kind of country for breakfast. Especially sitting in the sun in Arequipa on the roof of my hostal with birds chirping all around. But more on Arequipa later.
Lunch: can be summed up in three words Menu del Dia. Every traditional restaurant in Peru (which is most of them) has a different menu each day for lunch, just depending on what's around or what's a good deal at the market. This means that you get two courses, bread, juice and dessert (usually fruit) all for one low price. But don't think that it's just some set menu. Oh no, you get to choose between usually 3 or 4 appetizers and as many as a dozen main courses. That is so kick ass. That is SO KICK ASS! Every restaurant everywhere in the world should have this. Because as a traveller, you get to walk in, check out the menu, and tell your server what you want while you think to yourself 'I have no idea what I just ordered.' Then you get to receive your food and think 'I still don't really know what I just ordered.' In this way you get to sample different stuff all the time that you otherwise would never have! How many of us have been to Thailand, where a lot of the restaurants don't have menus, only to have Pad Thai three meals a day because that's what we know how to order? I definately ran into people like that there... and that's a bunch of crap. That's not why we travel. We travel so we can finish our delicous meal only to find out the dogs in the back aren't pets. To explore. Which is why I had raw human flesh for lunch yesterday. OK, actually it was alpaca. It was a little tough, tasted slightly of buffalo I guess, and was prepared with french fries (which I see in a lot of dishes here), tomatoes, cilantro, and some sort of marinade. It was friggin delicious. Anyways, I heart el Menu del Dia.
Dinner: um, I actualy don't have much to say about dinner. This whole model was mostly a vehicle to talk about breakfast and lunch. Honestly, I'm still figuring out dinner. A lot of the lunch places close for dinner, and at dinnertime pizza/fried chicken/hamburger joints seem to rule supreme. Some of the pizza is pretty good though. Also I had some ceviche one night, which is the Peruvian national dish (kind of. It's pretty durned popular at any rate). It's raw fish marinated in lime and cilantro. Sure I was quaking as I ate it, but my stomach won the russian roulette and my tastebuds won a tasty meal. Oh, ceviche is traditionally served with sliced sweet potato and yam. And one more note on the bread; the bread is kind of like a french role (or freedom role as I'm training the Peruvians to call it), and it's served with something very tasty and very spicy to dip it in. Friggin awesome.
This concludes my special entry on why I like Peruvian food. Can't wait to try hua (guinea pig)!

Why I hate Colin Farrell

Is it Colin Farrell? Is it Kerry Tasker? Who can tell?

'What?' you ask, 'how could anyone NOT hate ColinFarrell? I can give you half a dozen reasons to hateColin Farrell: Daredevil, Alexander, Daredevil, SWAT,Daredevil, He looks like your friend Kerry Tasker...' I know, it's easy to hate Colin Farrell,especially for helping Ben Affleck punish humanity with the Daredevil movie, but my specific reason for hating Colin Farrell starts with a bus ride... or more accurately, what was supposed to be a bus ride. I decided to skip Nazca because it sounded like it had become a tourist trap and I get motion-sickness (to see the lines you go up in a plane. Someone told me hot air balloon too, but I couldn't confirm that. I'd go just for a ride in a baloon actually). Also I saw a similar geoglyph on my Ballestas expedition, and I didn't want to get to Nazca and ask questions about the lines just to find out what I could read on wikipedia. I guess I decided that the experiencewould be less than transcendent. But we're hating Colin Farrell in this post I believe, not debating the worthiness of viewing theNazca lines as a spiritual experience. At any rate, I decided the canyons near Arequipa (la Ciudad Blanca) were beckoning. As it was a 12-hour bus ride, and seeing as how the bus was to double as my bed for the night, I spent the extra soles on Ormeño's RoyalDirect bus, which was to take me from Pisco to Arequipa with no stops in 12 hours, bathing me in attention from the friendly coach attendent, providing me meals, a bathroom, guarenteed only as many people as there are seats, etc. The bus was to depart from Pisco at 6:30pm (we're going to really hate Colin Farrell soon enough, so bear with me). I returned from the Ballestas (where I saw dolphins, cormerants,sea lions, a particularly rude pelican, yada yada) around 4:30, exhausted, sunburned, in need of a shower but not wanting one due to my skin, and without a hotel anyways. So I lounged around the plaza and an internet cafe (You can now download Ira Glass podcastsfor free from www.thislife.org, and if you're a geek like me you'll be excited to hear that!) until 6:00,then headed to the bus station. 6:30 quickly approached, but no bus came with it. I got up to ask the attendant, who saw me coming and said 'Arequipa, right?' 'Si.' So he got on his cellphone and after a rapid exchange in Spanish told me we had to go to San Clemente, the next town over. I tried to protest and ask why and he played the No Ingles card, but made it sound like the first bus had broke down and a second bus was leaving from Lima and would be through San Clemente but not Pisco. He said I could take a cab to San Clemente and that he would pay for it, and we both climbed into a cab. I felt OK because I knew the busses break down frequently, and that this guy worked at the bus station and had sold me my ticket the other day, but by this time it was dark, and as we drove through heavy industry and eventually countryside I began to worry. First of all, let me explain a little bit about safety in Peru: up until now I had never felt unsafe, but people are always telling me things like 'don't worry it's safe here' or 'this area is safe but don't go into these areas,' and my travelbook and fellow backpackers have numerous stories of bus hold-ups, strangle muggings, etc. Also, the hostals here are all locked 24/7, and you have to ring a bell to get in or out to have someone unlock the door for you. Also banks have permanent police details. So as we're driving through who knows where I'm thinking I didn't see any signs for San Clemente, the guy in front is on his cell again, and I'm starting to feel uncomfortable. So I discretely work my credit and debit card into my boot so if I do end up hog-tied in a tub somewhere I'll hopefully hold onto those. Then the guy from the bus station hops out pretty much in the middle of nowhere, closes the door, points at me, points in the direction we were heading, and we speed off (which all happened prettyfast). The cabbie seems friendly but speaks no English, so we don't get very far talking. I'm reallystarting to sweat after a bit, but then I see a sign for San Clemente, which eases the tension a bit. We eventually arive at the Ormeño office, which is pretty much just a barren room with a counter and some plywood portioning off part of the room. Oh, and a conspicuous water spigot jutting about three feet from thewall at knee level. And it's locked, that is the door is open but the bars over the doorway are locked. The cabbie motions to leave and I protest, as the office is empty, so he starts poking around. The employee is eating next door it turns out. He lets me into the office, looks at my ticket, tells me the bus is coming at 9:30 (friggin sweet, almost 3 hours away), then locks the iron bars again (locking me IN), goes into the enclosure, turns on a TV and gets on a cellphone. At this point I'm feeling less like a guest and more like a hostage, and I'm starting to sweat again. I mean the office looks like it hadn't been used for some time, and the whole thing was so strange... Fortunately not long after that some other people showed up with bus-related business. Around 9:30 the attendent takes me accross a highway, where a half-hour later a bus comes and I get on. By this point I'm feeling safe again, and i'm totally exhausted and want to sink into the plush bus seat and sleep. Unfortunately Colin Farrell had other plans. About 45 minutes later i'm rudely awakened to what sounds like 50 cent and Limp Bizkit. And it's loud. Like rock-concert loud. I wake with a start, wonder how I got on a bus with Fred Durst, and look up: the bus televisions are playing fucking Miami Vice with Colin Farrells big, ugly, mulleted head looking cool while shooting drug dealers with mostly naked women nearby. I think that's what I hate most about Colin Farrell, is he always looks like he's thinking to himself: 'I'm Colin Farrell.' Plus he makes shittymovies. He's no Ben Affleck, but he's damn close. Maybe he can be in Armageddon 2 with Ben. That would fit. So fucking Colin is yelling, Fred Durst is screaming, and I almost lost it. But no one else seemed bothered, even though everyone was sleeping when I got on board. It was genuinely strange. At any rate, my earplugs were NOT handy (didn't we learn a lesson about this earlier?), and the movie wasn't going away, so I thought I'd try and watch it. But it was dubbed and subtitled in Spanish. Eventually I got to sleep, only to be again awakened 6 hours later so we could watch a bootlegged Break Up (the romantic comedy of the year I'm sure, starring sweethearts Vince Vaugn and that girl from Friends) at 6am and eat breakfast,which was white bread with bolognia and egg salad sandwiches. I drank the juice. 14 hours in total, we pulled into Arequipa at around 2pm. Oh yeah, and our Directo bus made several stops to pick people up. I don't know what the moral of this story is. Trust people but notOrmeño bus lines?

A brief update on adding comments to my blog

OK, it appears that you have to be a member of blogspot or blogger or whatever this is to post comments. But you can email me without that by clicking on the little envelope at the bottom of the posts. Other than that, nothing happened today, unless you count my getting attacked by a pelican. Those birds are big, mean bullies.

Pisco sour, Pisco puro

First of all the internet cafe is playing remixd Venga boys and that song "y'all ready for this?", you know, from Jock Jams, and it's pretty friggin awesome. If you've never heard of the VEnga boys you are seriously, seriously missing out on a staple of crappy pop-electronica club music. The Boys are currently featured on my myspace.com page, or if you don't have myspace you can probably listen to a sample on amazon.com by searching Venga Boys. And i know it's your number one priority. Y'all ready for this? Formulaic techno voiced over by pre-pubescants? It's great because it was honstly a huge club hit. Anything with a beat I guess. Anyways, Pisco is the national drink of Peru. Apparently something like the Spanish king didn't want SA wine over-running España, so he decided to place a large tarriff on it. Landholders responded by creating a fermented version of grape-water that is not technically wine. Pisco sour is the most popular version (at least for tourists), which is the only way i've had it so far. It's sour. But it's pretty damn sweet too, thus the title of this entry.
My mood picked up remarkably once i got out of Lima. The bigger the city the more time you spend finding your way, getting hasseled by touts and paying a lot of money for stuff (see my entries on Bangkok and Mumbai, which don't actually exist. And I've never been to Mumbai. But I hear it's real expensive. I also hear that busloads of people from Mumbai come to Goa on the weekends to see Western women sunbath toplss. Again, I've never ben, but I believe it based on how I saw Indian men act towards Western women in India. The attitude seems to be "I know this blonde from baywatch wants to have sex with me, i'm just not sure how to make it happn... mayb if i just pull out my penis... Goa is Catholic, thanks to the Portuguise, who launchd their own inquisition to outdo the one in Spain. The man in charge was later named a saint and is venerated in Goa... I guess it's a "whoever tortures the most people wins" system, kind of lik what we have going in the US! Habeus shmabeus. That was a communist plot anyways. And if we don't let P. Daddy Bush interpret the Gnva convntions, the trrorists have won, right? Can I get an Amen!.
I'm in a little town called Pisco (suprise!) that has the most pleasant little public square i've ever seen. I credit classic Spanish town planning, which always has a central common area surounded by gridded streets for easy navigation; it can be distinguishd by classic French layouts because the French preferred large boulevards radiating diagnally from the corners of the town square (hopefully that gives you a visualization?). They both can be distinguished by typical American planning by the latter's lack of any cohesive structure or logic; plus traditionally American planning relies more heavily on strip malls and over-sized parking lots. It's not intended for "beauty" as much as "convincing people to spend their paychecks on chinsy crap from China," as witnessd by 3/4 of US GDP being represented by consumer spending and China being the largest holder of US dollars in the world. But I digress. The central plaza is great because it has well maintained grounds (unlike most of the sidewalks, evidence of its importance to the daily lives of Piscans - actually it appears that sidewalks are maintaind by the owner of the building next to them, not the city, so maybe I'm wrong), many large trees full of several kinds of chirping birds, and is obviously a meeting ground for after school, during siesta (banks, for example, close for 2-3 hours during the middle of the day), or for old men to hang around and trade old man bullshitting (which sems to be a worldwide phenomenon).
If you ever come to Peru and wonder why seats on the top of the bus are 2/3 the price of the bottom of the bus, it's because the bathroom on the top is "for urinary only", and top customers can't go downstairs to use the bathroom. So don't make the same mistake I did and drink a bunch of pisco, eat sushi from a sidewalk vendor and then show up at the bus station all sick just to find out why you "saved" 20 soles on your ticket (OK, just kidding about the shushi. I was just trying to think of the stupidest thing I could think of to eat your first day in a foreign country. And there is a lot of Japanese in Peru; i haven't figured out why yet but I plan to. They have a Japanese ex-president though, Fujimoro I think. He tamed the massive inflation Peru was suffring in the early 90's (I think early 90's) but was heavilly criticized by human rights groups for allowing too many bad apples (I prefer to call them "misguided apples") and naughty paramilitaries in his regime. Currently exiled on a remote Japanese island and trying to figure out how he can circumvent the Peruvian constitution and courts and get back in the country to run for president again. Kind of a Clinton approach to politics I guess: the law is like a piñada - the more you beat it, the more candy comes out.
Tomorrow I'm going to see the islas ballestas, seabirds and sea lions, penguins and dolphins. So I'll let y'all know how that goes. As you can tell, I've gotten pretty good at mastring the tiny shift keys on the keyboard and the ' being whre the - usually is (I had to ask how to get a - actually I can't get it to go again, the little "at" thingy in an email address. It involves holding control and tapping the 4 and 6 on the number pad several times). Anyways, I've got that under control but not the sticky e on this particular keyboard. So that's good. And I already speak more spanish than I did after 4 months in Thailand, so that's good too. That's really one of the coolest things about travelling outside your country - the satisfaction of saying "I'd like to go to Arequipa" and having a prson understand you! And serious, that sentence involves two verbs, which means one is conjugated and one isn't, which is no big deal for first year spanish students, but i haven't been one of those for like 5 years (my first and ONLY year of spanish, the hardest class I ever took in college). So I like that too. Let's see, what else... I'd like to get a suitcase handcuffed to my arm, that would b cool. I wrote a letter to my Dad that started "I'm not", but I meant to write "I'm nearly", but I still wanted to use it, so I wrote "I'm not a steam-boat operator, Dad. Don't even pretend like I operate steamboats. Thre's a lot you don't know about me. Sorry this letter had to take such a harsh turn at the beginning". I think a dance party is breaking out in the internet cafe. Gotta go! Look forward to HEARING FROM SOME OF YOU (not that it's lonely travelling by yourself in a place where you communicate at a 3 year old level, and not that I want the ego-boost of finding out I'm not the only one that likes reading what I write). Isn't that what's supposed to be cool about blogs, you can like post rsponses and stuff on them? I dunno, I don't really read blogs. Oh, one more thing, I think there's a spell-check on the Blog program, but all the buttons are in Spanish so I can't find it and I'm scared of pushing "delete your work and start over" or something, so sorry about the occasional error. Maybe if any teachrs are reading they can be wracked with guilt (or if anyone who uses Blogspot is reading describe to me whre the spell check button is?) You know in China poor student performance is seen as a result of bad teaching, not lazy students... man, like every teacher in the whole US would be terrible. Rachl Lee, you've been to China, do they scare the crap out of those kids or something? Cause there would have to be at least one student in a class that doesn't like school... ok, I'm tangenting again. Take care northside.

i forgot some stuff!

so i got to the hostel last night and was jetlagged and in need of sleep, and one of the guys in my room snored. somehow i always forget that a lot of guys snore, i guess because i don't. but that's not what makes the story interesting. what makes it interesting is that he would half wake himself up with his snoring and then say things like "seven. seven. seven. seven. seven seven seven seven. seven" or weird half-asleep mutterings in an irish accent (the accent itself wasn't weird because he was irish, but i didn't necessarily know that at the time). the moral of the story: always keep the earplugs handy. also, in case anyone was worried, since i know you were, lima has mcdonalds, kfc, and pizza hut. which in and of itself isn't so strange, those are everywhere. but they also have lots of pet dogs and pilates spas and health clubs, and the most popular foods seem to be hamburgers and fried chicken. which surprised me quite a bit. and apparently gambling is legal, because there's cheesy theme casinos a la las vegas all over. like "renaissance castle" or "incan temple" or "old run down house turned slot parlor". the moral is that cities are lame and i'm leaving lima tomorrow.

Well I finally made it to Peru

Hi, I'm in peru. So there's that. Actually i meant to be here sooner, but i got denied boarding by delta because they don't know visa rules. and before that i denied myself boarding due to serious, serious food poisoning. Las Vegas buffets? Not as glamerous as they sound. and if you say they don't sound that glamerous, you're right (once i figured out that i was basically eating dorm food, i was ready to go). so 15 days past schedule, here i am. but first, i really need to say that i am now in the land of latino keyboards, with screwy, un-american layouts and strange keys and extra-tiny shift buttons. so my typing sucks and i know it and that's why. also that means that some of my stories will be truncated.
so for those of you who don't know, i am now in south america thanks to a generous grant i received from my college. i will remain in this unfavorably-portrayed-in-mercator-projection-maps continent for 10 months, during which time stuff will happen, some of which will be reported via this blog. i might post pictures and video, too, making this a truely multi media experience. while i'm here i aim to study comparative economic policies, particularly in boliva and chile. peru just happened to be a lot easier to fly into than bolivia, whose national air carrier is bankrupt. and international carriers aren't interested in servicing poor people i guess, which is probably one reason bolivia started a national carrier to begin with. so i'm in peru right now , whre i'll work my way to bolivia to study their movement towards socialism (MAS is the name of the political party in power; mas means "more" in español and the party literally is movimento al socialismo. clever, no?). in the meanwhile i plan on heading down the southern coast to see the worlds largest sea lion colony, the nasca lines, arequipa - la ciudad blanca, or the white city (made of white stone), and lake titicaca. See, this is as exciting as a tele novela, so stay tuned!
It's funny how different south america is from travlling in asia, and how not different it is from the US. Unlike Thailand, i am not immediately pegged as a visitor here That is until i open my mouth (or walk around, or eat, or do anything but be very still. i guess if i was posing for a portrait one might mistake me for a peruvian) but even the language situation is totally different than going to a place where the word "mai" means 5 different things depending on how you say it (high/low/mid/rising or falling tone) to a place where i can almost feel like i already speak the language, i just didn't know it - it's actually pretty simple to decipher signs in spanish, or to identify at least some words when someone speaks to you. But at the same time, i have had plenty of chances to feel like an idiot in my first 24 hours, like when someone asks "do you understand spanish?" and i just stare blankly, or worse just smile and nod.
so anyways, i'm in peru for a while.
p.s. i hope to make my future entries more about travelling and less about nothing. so despite this diatribe you should check back again sometime. also, i should apologize for this blog being half journal. i guess that either makes it really interesting or dreadfully boring. i don't blame you if you decide the latter